


Birthday Boy

by Anchanted_One



Series: Tales from The Old Republic [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alone, Angst, Depression, Forever Alone, Gen, Loneliness, So much angst, mental health, poor Arro, why do i do this to him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25513726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchanted_One/pseuds/Anchanted_One
Relationships: Lana Beniko/Male Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython
Series: Tales from The Old Republic [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1257356
Kudos: 5





	Birthday Boy

* * *

Arro groaned weakly as he reluctantly opened his eyes. It was well past dawn and sunlight was spilling in through the curtains, but the debilitating pains in his limbs and joints that had kept him awake for two nights straight made him want nothing more than to put his head back on his pillow and try to get some sleep at last.

But he couldn't yet. He hadn't slept in that long, but neither had he been able to consume so much as a sip of water. It was all but impossible to, when he was in that state, but his body continued to sweat in excess when he writhed in agony. Nor was feeding intravenously possibly given how violently he trembled during these episodes. He no longer responded to anesthetics either.

Kolto baths helped a lot, but the frequency made this therapy insanely expensive.   
A part of him yearned to request his doctors to euthanize him. But he still shrank from the possibility when time came to actually speak his request. But it was getting worse, and worse. In the beginning at least he could pass out from the pain. Until one day he no longer did. It took strong doses of painkillers or tranquilizers to spare him the pain, and their strength only grew each month, as had his dependence on the drugs. Then one day he had found, to his horror, that they no longer helped. He had had to, on top of dealing with the pain, undergo rehabilitation to overcome hsi drug addiction.  
And even before he had taken to these, his symptoms had worsened to the point that his hands resembled shaking talons; he had been unable to hold so much as a datapad. But once the tremor from the effects of the drugs set in, his hands had become all but useless—and the damage done had been irreversible. Lana would have been so disappointed—no. The truth was, Lana would have accepted. He knew, because even now, long after she had passed, her presence still lingered in the back of his head. It still warmed him during his worst nights; singing to him or conjuring images of the many many adventures they had had together, and the places they had seen. They could still speak most days, after a fashion, and he was grateful that he hadn't been left behind.

He felt so alone nowadays. Even so he longed for a physical closeness. To be hugged, to have his hand held.

It had been so long since not only Lana, but also Karan and Harini, and Aditi, Kanha and Neetya. He no longer felt connected to anyone anymore. He was a relic from a bygone era.  
How long had it been? how long since he had been reduced to this pitiful state?

"Good morning sir."

Arro squinted at the direction the voice came from. "EnNate! Good morning to you too."

The droid had sprung into motion the second it had registered his awakening. It had brought for him a cup filled to the brim with a rehydration solution, which it held up for him. He gratefully accepted it, trusting the droid to measure the sips so that he didn't swallow it in one go. He took the sips and sighed with relief as they wet his parched throat.

EnNate offered him another couple of sips every minute or so, and within the next half hour the cup was dry. EnNate placed the empty cup on the table and said "Sir, may I suggest you bathe while C2 changes the sheets?"

"Yes please," Arro whispered. His sheets and clothes were soaked through, and his joints still ached from the agony they'd endured.

The Droid helped him rise, and led him to the bathroom. There, it helped him strip off his medical-issue robes and enter the tub. He sighed with relief as the hot water began to pour in, and the level began to rise. Soon it was upto his chin and the flow stopped. The temperature of the water was artificially regulated so that it would stay warm for upto two hours after he entered; and he intended to soak in every minute of it. He could rarely leave his small cottage anymore, and these baths were among the few luxuries left to him. Once the water went cold, he would ask EnNate to robe him, and take him for a walk through the garden. The smell of the flowers, the soft trickle of the nearby mountain spring, and the warm sunlight would be so nice after days spent writhing.  
He needed as much pleasure as he could get; for the pain would inevitably start building again, perhaps as soon as this very evening. If he was truly lucky, it would be three days before the next bout, but just one at the worst. He looked at the mirror nearby somewhat unnecessarily; but for his weak and weary expression, he still looked just the same as he had the day he had emerged from carbonite... so many years ago. Not so much as a stray wrinkle. He hadn't even lost any weight from his ordeal.  
Just as Lana's vision had prophesied.

He had always known what awaited him, tried to make the most of what time he had—that they had had—but once the hellish days had begun—the day his wife had died—every moment of his life he had spent getting more and more afraid. Afraid that his children would one day follow their mother, then their children after them. And how swiftly those years had passed!  
Now he was all alone. The thought brought a sob from his lips, and nearly shattered his heart.

"EnNate?" He croaked. "Perhaps today's the day... I'm going to enjoy the day a little, then... then... maybe..."

"If that is your wish, Sir. Also, Sir? I have a message for you. Would you like to hear it?"

Wordlessly, Arro raised his watery eyes to look at the droid, and nodded.

The Droid's in-built holoprojector lit blue, and a small hologram resolved before him.

"Lana!" He choked.

The recording of his long-dead wife looked so tired, so very tired. Her lips were trembling. "If you are watching this, my love, then it's your Three Hundred and sixty-eighth Birthday! So, Happy... Happy birthday."  
Three hundred and sixty-eight. His heartbeat seemed to go still for a minute.

He listened to the message in its entirety; it was a song that Lana had composed for him, along with repeated, heartfelt declarations of love. She managed to keep her voice steady until the final words of her song had passed her rose-bud lips, but once they had, she could hold it in no longer, and she began to weep in earnest as she spoke. After almost fifteen minutes, she blew him a kiss and the recording ended, leaving Arro deeply touched.

Three Hundred and sixty-eight years old. In the eternity between birthdays he always lost track of his age, but Lana's prerecorded messages always brought it home to him, and perhaps she knew that. The second she had realized his fate, she had made it her mission to record messages for him every day. Every night she had recorded a birthday greeting, along with a few other messages. Sometimes when she couldn't sleep she would record long monologues and speeches that were triggered to play after her death, in multiples of five years. Her programming allowed EnNate to replay recordings once they had been unlocked, and Arro had listened to these feverishly as often as he could. 

And now she had been at this for a year already, and understanding of his reality was perhaps starting to set in for her. His tears resumed, but this time from the sympathy he felt for poor Lana. How must his poor wife have been feeling when she made this recording? How did she manage to keep it up for the rest of her life? For he remembered being shooed out of her presence every time she sat down to record. He remembered her sorrow afterwards, having to sometimes comfort her afterwards, one which she always clawed her way out of so that she could also cherish her moments with him in real-time.

But a melancholy had set in, and nothing they did made her better. Time and again, he begged her to stop, and she had refused, point blank. Over the years the depression had set in deep inside her heart. But she had kept up the nightly recordings, and showered his living version with love and affection, and she had kept it up to the rest of her life.

His ruminations brought the faint impression of a warm weight on his chest, a kiss on his lips... a gentle laugh echoed through his head. Lana wasn't gone. She was still right here, in his heart.

A light seemed to shine in his heart, spreading across his entire body, giving him courage.

"EnNate? I think I won't be dying today either after all."

"Yes Sir. I am glad to hear that."

"Also, could you play her song again please?"   
"With pleasure, Sir."

* * *


End file.
